Strangers When We Meet
by DelilahBlueEyes
Summary: When Sarah's new neighbors party too loudly one night she goes upstairs to let them know just how she feels about that. Little does she know who her new neighbor actually is and how much irritation- and entertainment value he will bring to her life.
1. Strangers When We Meet

Sarah didn't care about the noises from the apartment upstairs at nine o'clock. She was so absorbed in her book she hardly heard anything outside of the rustle of its pages. Moving in was a noisy process, anyway.

She didn't mind overmuch when she was woken up at eleven o'clock. She realized that not everyone went to bed as early as good little bookworms like herself did. She simply rolled over, pulled a pillow over her head to muffle the noise and fell back asleep.

But at two o'clock, to say she was a bit miffed was an understatement. Without bothering to put on shoes or her robe, she flung her door open, stomped up the stairs to the apartment above hers and rapped sharply on the door. As she waited for someone to answer she quickly composed what she would say. Something properly scathing but that wouldn't make them cry like the last neighbor unfortunate enough to attract her attention. (She'd never heard from Ms. Whitmore again, but she'd heard that she was teaching preschool in Florida.) _While you may not have anywhere to go or anything to do tomorrow—and I congratulate you on that fact, really I do; _I_ have a job that I have to leave for in four hours. If you don't quiet down and let me salvage the rest of the night's prime sleeping time, I will make you rue the day your mother even thought to have a drunken threesome with your father and his best friend. And by the way, good luck finding out which is which. Personally I've never had any daddy issues but I hear they're a real bitch later in life._

Then the door opened and her brain seemed to short circuit. Standing before her was a tall, longhaired— incredibly gorgeous, blonde man. His feet were bare, peeking out from beneath the cuffs of his obscenely tight jeans, which showed his… assets off to great advantage. Rather sharp looking hipbones matched rather sharp looking cheekbones, and a rather sharp looking, sardonic mouth. His band tee, advertising some obscure rock band she'd never heard of, stretched taut across his chest as he crossed his arms and leaned those slim hips against the doorjamb, raising one pale eyebrow at her. She almost regained her ability to form an angry, sarcastic remark at that, but then she caught sight of his eyes and had to start all over again, as it is quite difficult to think coherently with a melted brain. They were blue and slightly uneven. They were fire blue, ice blue. They were beautiful. They were… watching her slow perusal of his face in confused amusement. That brought her back quick enough. But as she opened her mouth to say something— anything, he cut her off.

"I'm sorry," he said, and the faint English lilt in his voice caused a strange buzzing to begin in the pit of her stomach. She had a moment to wonder where in England he was from because as an actress, she could practically feel the authenticity of that delicious accent. "Were we being too loud?"

Sarah opened her mouth, closed it again. She swallowed convulsively, suddenly too nervous to speak and nodded instead. Standing before this strangely beautiful man, she felt comparatively skuzzy in her pajamas, hair mussed and wild around her shoulders. She felt self conscious, tired, and a little cold on the bare, well-worn carpet without her fluffy slippers. And to her surprise the man looked over his shoulder and shouted, "Oi! You lot, quiet down. The neighbors are trying to sleep."

There were a few rude responses and a lot of rowdy laughter. Glancing past him, Sarah caught a glimpse of long blonde hair, high heeled shoes and smiling red lips— some perky little tart sitting on his couch, most likely, which only served to bring to mind again her own untidy appearance. His own quirked into an apologetic half-smile. "Don't worry; I'll keep these rascals in line. About time they all went home, anyway."

Instead of returning his smile, Sarah blinked, ducked her head and whispered, "Thank you." Then she turned around and hightailed it back down the stairs, tugging her oversized tee shirt so that it completely covered her boxers from the eyes she could feel burning into her back until she disappeared from view.

For his part, Jareth was only too happy to watch her flee, chuckling briefly at her obvious discomfort at being seen so scantily clad. When she was gone he stepped back inside and closed the door. His friends were sprawled across whatever piece of furniture or carpet they could fit on, bantering and laughing drunkenly as he had left them.

"Which neighbor was complainin'? Upstai's or down? I wanna know where to point th' speakers," His slightly inebriated bass guitarist, Michael was fiddling around with the stereo, attempting to pick out the loudest and most obnoxious music with which to torture the poor girl downstairs. Jareth shook his head, allowing his hair to slip forward and screen his face. It just wouldn't do to let the messy louts believe he was going soft.

"No, I wasn't joking. The normal people who sleep at night won't put up with our nonsense for too long, and I won't be kicked out for your entertainment." He picked up the beer he had been nursing before he'd answered the door and stood next to the couch until the blonde woman slipped a finger through one of his belt loops and tugged him down beside her, laughing when he growled quietly at her.

"Well, look at this, then. She must have been pretty for you to listen to a word she said," Kale, the drummer sat up from where he was slumped in a ratty armchair and studied Jareth with a bit too much understanding for his comfort. Which made him sure that he'd had enough of their antics for one night. A man could only take so much. "Trying to get on her good side. Do you plan on having your way with her?"

He didn't answer right away. First he finished his drink, then he sighed, then he stood in one smooth movement and plucked the glass that Kale was holding from between his fingers. Three long strides carried him across the room where he set both his empty bottle and Kale's commandeered glass on a table before turning to face the rest of the room.

"That is _none_ of your business. Any of you. Now, don't you have somewhere else to go? A house, perhaps, or a hotel, or a gutter at the side of a whorehouse? I don't care really, just pick yourselves up off my floor and have a nice night wherever you end up." And with that he calmly crossed the hall to his bedroom and closed the door on all of the startled faces watching him go. It took a few moments for everyone to gather the necessary momentum to find their things and shuffle toward the door. Michael glanced across to the blonde woman, still sitting comfortably on the couch and staring suspiciously at the shadowy door that had just shut between herself and her quarry.

"He must have actually liked what he saw, eh, Carmine?" Michael sounded mildly shocked, which was not surprising. Usually their great leader would have invited the girl at the door in or sent her away blushing madly, and spent the rest of the night making her regret her courage in complaining of the comparatively meager amount of noise they'd been making before. The woman grinned in response, like a Cheshire cat that had just pounced on a rather juicy little field mouse.

"He must have." She watched as everyone else filed out into the hall, then locked the front door before moving toward the bedroom, knocking quietly and slipping through when the door opened up enough for her to barely fit.

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Ok, so, you know how I have a complete lack of follow through as far as my writing is concerned? Well, this is just me proving that habit with YET ANOTHER STORY!

But don't worry, I plan on finishing this one! I promise!

Obviously, this is an A/U and one I actually like. Next chapter coming soon. (And yes, I did snatch the title from a David Bowie song. It only seemed fitting.)

Thanks for all the comments and favorites on the other two stories I submitted! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! : )

Hope you guys like it!


	2. Dazzled By The New

A knock on the door the next evening drew Sarah out of her book, right out of the cold Russian winter the hero was facing to save his people from the cruel tyranny of the sorcerer that had overthrown the rightful king—a second knock pulled her attention away from the page fully. With a frustrated huff she snapped her book shut and stood. When she reached the door she jerked it open, prepared to chew out whoever had interrupted her reading. But the man from last night was standing there, smiling disarmingly, holding a bottle of wine and a CD, and somehow she found herself simply stepping aside and allowing him into her home. He rambled into her living room as easily as if it were his own and she was the one visiting. She watched him as his gaze swept over the room filled with her cozy furniture, bookcases and paintings of various scenery, before turning to her.

"I'm sorry about my friends last night. They can be quite rude when they're sauced, but they're really a great bunch. This is for you," he said, handing her the bottle. The CD case he handed over without a word, moving to study her bookcase more closely and allow her time to study her gifts. Sarah, grateful for the diversion of his attention spun to face the mirror hanging on the wall behind her, quickly checking that her hair was properly tamed, her make-up un-smudged. She flipped her reading glasses onto the table beside the couch and fluffed her hair up a bit without even realizing that she was primping for a near stranger. When she whirled at a glimpse of him watching her in the mirror, he had already turned back to the bookcase to consider her collection as if it held his entire interest and not the charming blush suddenly blooming on her cheeks.

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A bit embarrassed at being caught, Sarah glanced down at the wine. It was pink and fruit flavored, though the print of the company was so spidery and elaborate that she couldn't make it out. The CD was a different matter entirely. A black and red striped swatch of paper drew her eye across the surface of the case, confounding her momentarily before she caught sight of three words.

"Das… sterbende… licht?" she asked, looking up to find him grinning at her. Almost as if he'd been waiting for that exact question.

"The dying light. It's German." He stepped forward and slipped the CD out of her hands, motioning her toward the couch before turning to her stereo. It was pitifully smaller than his own, but was a sound name brand.

"That's a bit overdramatic, isn't it?" The CD was loaded into the tray and he turned the volume dial up before falling gracefully onto the other end of the couch far enough away to seem nonthreatening but within arm's reach.

"What's the point of being a performer if you can't be dramatic?" _You look like someone who can appreciate the sentiment_, he thought as he remembered the many bound plays and scripts that graced her bookshelves. Slow, smooth guitar music filled the room, followed closely with a bass that twined its way through the higher hum of its companion. Sarah leaned slowly back into her seat, tilting her head slightly. The opening music was calm and well recorded. This must be a favorite band of his. But then the vocals started up and her mind went fuzzy for a few moments. She found herself blushing once again, staring absently at the forest scene above her fireplace, wondering what the owner of such a voice must look like. It sounded awfully familiar, and if not, she wished it was. She was sure she would enjoy getting to know whoever was able to infuse their voice with so much silk and honey. Then the singer sang a word that sounded just slightly off, the 'a' too broad and clipped. Her brow furrowed for a moment in confusion. That voice certainly did sound familiar. Wait. Was that-? She turned slowly in her seat to eye her companion.

Jareth had crossed his legs at the ankles, leaning one elbow against the top of the couch beside him and resting his chin in his hand. Despite the fact that he had only met the girl last night, he was strangely eager to know what she thought of the music. The opening track happened to be his favorite for a number of reasons, not least of which because it was written in a rather sensual state of mind and all the more fun to explain. He watched silently as she made herself comfortable, leaned her head to one side in a motion that seemed familiar and unthinking. Then the vocals started, a sensual male voice filled the air and her reaction changed completely. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, her lips parted slightly, breathing speeding up and her skin flushed all the way down to the neck of her shirt. For a few moments he was staring at the embodiment of mild arousal. Then she seemed to come back to herself enough to have a spark of recognition. In a moment she was staring at him.

"Is that you?" She asked, even as her eyes flickered down to the logo on his tee shirt, a twin of the one he'd been wearing the day before in a different color and the very same as the CD case cover. He grinned and plucked at the fabric with a hand before stretching it across the back of the couch to twist the ends of her hair around his fingers.

"Self promotion is the best sort. Cheap and effective. I find that I myself make a passable billboard. Wouldn't you say?" He leaned slightly forward as he asked, watching her eyes waver between ogling his barely covered skin and gaping up into his face. Was it possible that she had turned even more red? She hadn't seemed to realize that she was now seated on the middle cushion of the couch, just a few inches from where he himself had leaned forward to close the distance between them without alarming his new friend. "I'm sure you'd make a spectacular billboard too, if we decked you out just right."

Sarah didn't answer, instead standing and crossing the room to the front hall. She opened the door and turned back to quirk a brow at Jareth. Her body language spoke of her lack of putting up with any more nonsense tonight. "Are you taking your CD when you leave?"

He rose as well, grinning as he approached and halted before her. He did not answer immediately either. He leaned forward and dropped his arms around her shoulders in an odd sort of half-hug. Unsure of just how to respond, she brought one arm up behind him to rest lightly on his back. She felt him fiddling around with the back of the neck of her shirt and shifted uneasily, trying to figure out just what he was doing. Then he turned his head so that his lips brushed her earlobe as he spoke. "The music is a gift. Listen to it and maybe you'll learn a little something about me before we next meet."

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Sarah sighed as she dropped her handful of quarters into the individual slots on the change tray then pushed it into the coin box. The building's ancient washing machine lurched into action in front of her, vibrating in place with the effort of spinning her clothing. The sound of the door at the top of the stairs closing followed by the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to turn and see who was leaving the building at noon. She'd hoped it would be Luke so she could tease him again about losing so soundly the last time they'd gotten together to play poker with some friends. She grinned and leaned back against the washing machine, propping her arms against the cool metal lid. Who appeared around the corner wiped the smile clean from her features. That damned noisy neighbor. And as soon as he spotted her his path changed infinitesimally so that he seemed to be walking toward her as though nothing short of a loaded gun would derail him. Sarah sneered internally. Well, let him bait her all he liked, she was not required to speak to him. She raised her chin and studied him haughtily. Today revealed a similar pair of jeans to the day before paired with another obscure band tee. Both were of course sinfully tight and would probably have made a lesser woman blush, but Sarah set her jaw and was proud that her icy demeanor didn't waver. The strap from the guitar case that bobbed serenely against his back was pulled taught across the gently worn leather jacket that graced his shoulders.

Sarah tipped her head slightly to the side as a small flare of… something sparked through her. It took a moment to be able to find a word for the feeling: fear. She was very slightly afraid. When he had first spotted her, he was simply walking. On his way outside to do something or other. The movement had been so casual that he'd seemed to be about to fall asleep on his feet.

But then he'd spotted her and his entire demeanor had changed. The rubber soles of his sneakers had made hardly any sound as he effortlessly imitated a jungle cat, adopting it's smooth gait and oozing a purely predatory aura. It was much too easy to picture him in his element, stalking small, defenseless, unsuspecting prey through the underbrush— perhaps meaning herself, she thought as she watched him.

When he stood only a few feet away, a socially acceptable distance, Sarah expected him to stop, to say something sarcastic and biting. But instead he took another two steps forward, crowding her personal space and smiling that unnerving smile the entire time. She'd been surprised for a moment when he hadn't stopped, when he'd placed hi feet on either side of hers and set his hands on the top of the washing machine behind her so that he was almost hugging her. She was startled, her left hand raised haltingly, intent on pushing him away but it never finished its journey. His lips met hers and immediately short-circuited her higher brain function on contact. Her hand fell limply to the sleeve of his jacket and she faintly registered how buttery soft it was against her skin, almost as much as his hand as it brushed hers behind her. Then his lips moved against hers slightly and he tipped his head to the side and her eyes rolled up in her head. The open sides of his unzipped jacket brushed her sides, enveloping her in its warmth. Her heart fluttering like a bird in her chest conflicted with the molasses slow movements of her thoughts until she gave up trying to do anything but keep herself standing… more or less. After what seemed an eternity but was probably only seconds, he leaned slightly away so that she felt his breath warm against her face.

"That was even better than I had hoped it would be." Immediately after he had stopped kissing her, Sarah had begun to fight against the hormones raging through her body, leaving her feeling overheated and weak in their wake. She pictured an old fashioned wardrobe trunk, complete with a heavy steel padlock and tried to wrestle her current tempestuous feelings into it. She imagined her spine as a perfectly straight rod of metal, holding her upright and making her able to withstand the constant barrage of sensorial overload Jareth introduced merely by standing too close. And she almost believed herself to be succeeding—until he spoke.

"Have dinner with me," was all he said. Just a soft, rumbling half whisper spoken so close to her face that she couldn't hope to ignore. In her mind the padlock snapped in half and flew off into the darkness; the metal spine she'd constructed for herself melted, leaving her leaning all of her weight against the machine behind her rather than the man in front of her. "I'll meet you at your door tonight at eight o' clock."

He lifted a hand to rest lightly against her jaw as he leaned forward and stole another small, lip-clinging kiss that made her see stars. Then he stepped back and was gone as swiftly as he'd appeared. Sarah was left standing as still as a tree taking root in the middle of the laundry room, waiting for her heart and the world to settle into a normal pattern.

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Here's chapter two! And, as promised to a certain someone (you know who you are) there will be a chicken and glitter abundant in the next chapter! So look forward to that.

Sorry this is so short but I've been uber busy lately. I promise to do some writing today though because I am on my Christmas break! Also, sorry about the crappy pagebreaks. I had to do some serious combat with my computer to wrestle it into compliance even on that. ^^'

Hope you like it!


	3. Blended Sunrise

Jareth flipped the kickstand down as he stepped off his motorcycle, carefully lifting his helmet off his head and shaking his hair out, running a careless gloved hand through it as he walked toward the house. The sun was shining and the birds were flitting happily from branch to branch. All was right with the world and nothing short of a natural disaster could have possibly wiped the cheerful smile off of his face today. Before he'd gotten three steps away from his bike, he heard a cacophonous clang from the garage, their makeshift practice room for the past three years and turned to open the door. Inside were all of his band mates, sprawled bonelessly across a pair of threadbare couches and some beanbag chairs, some strumming guitars, one twirling a pair of drumsticks in such a lazy way Jareth wouldn't have been surprised if they slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"Ah, the rock star finally decides to grace us with his presence." The irritated voice belonged, of course, to Kale, who looked slightly hung over in his rumpled clothes.

"Sorry I'm late, boys," he said easily, still grinning. "I had a very interesting run-in with my lovely new neighbor."

Michael snorted and dropped both of his drumsticks to stare up at him in disbelief. "The one from last night? Good lord, you work fast," he said admiringly. "Maybe you could give me a few pointers sometime—"

"I'm sorry; I thought we were here for band practice, not you two girls gabbing about your hookups." Kale's irritation was almost tangible, even over the twang of his brother strumming his guitar lazily. Michael rolled his eyes as he stood and moved toward his bass, laughing when Gabe took up a funeral dirge to accompany him.

"Yes, mother dear. Whatever you say." Jareth turned and let his guitar case fall to the couch, nodding to Carmine who was perched in an armchair in the corner. He frowned slightly when she only glared at him coolly.

"Michael, I thought you were going to change your strings. That thing sounds like shit."

"Hey! I changed my strings last June… I think."

"Hey, Kale, does this sound in tune to you?" The question was followed closely by a sound like someone dropping a piece of steel into a wood chipper as both men began to strum furiously, without regard for the way he pictures on the wall began to shake as the amps blasted the chaotic sound far and wide. Kale covered his eyes with both hands and groaned.

"God, I need a drink."

"I'll get you something." Jareth called, already half way out the door. The sounds from the garage were greatly diminished when he stepped into the kitchen, which was at the other side of the house. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a few bottles of the first kind of alcohol he laid eyes on, turning to set them on the counter so he could open them. The quiet, creaking sound of footfalls in the doorway made him turn again to see Carmine leaning against the doorjamb, still staring at him as if he'd just slapped her. He raised one of the open bottles to his lips as he stared back, quirking a brow at her as he drank. When she spoke it was the last thing he expected her to say.

"You slept with her, didn't you?" Carmine crossed her arms and waited as Jareth chocked and almost dropped his bottle. He coughed and pounded himself hard on the chest as his eyes watered.

"I just met the woman last night," he gasped. "How can you accuse me of that already?"

"Because I know you! The way you were acting last night, it was obvious you were interested. And that's just the kind of thing you'd do." She turned away and looked back toward the garage, eyes focused on nothing in particular as she though. "Even after what's happened in the past."

Jareth watched her for a moment, an unhappy pucker between his brows before sighing and stepping toward her, tugging gently until she turned to face him again. "Carmine, you are the only woman in my life. And unless you'd like to share me with a very expensive psychologist, for whom I will make you pay, I would very much like you to trust me on that point."

To her credit, Carmine was able to cling to her icy demeanor for a few moments more before a grudging smile crept across her face and she nodded. Jareth smiled his own smile as he hugged her, planting a kiss on her cheek before letting her go again and handing her a few beers to bring to the garage. He stood alone in the kitchen after she left, frowning and thinking. He knew what she had been referring to when she'd mentioned the past, how could he not? And he would never put either of them in that position again, especially not for some strangely enchanting girl who lived next door. But the thought of Sarah brought his insolent grin back to his face. No, he'd have to do this properly and court the girl before letting Carmine know what competition she had for his affections. Perhaps he'd pay her a visit later in the day.

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Sarah was glad the store was quiet today, only a few people since she'd come in ha stayed long enough to even realize someone was actually in the little shop, and then they'd just bought what they came for and left. _Ah, the blessings of living in a quiet part of the city_, she thought as she mechanically folded a stack of shirts and placed them gently in a shelf next to their multicolored mates. Sure, the retail business wouldn't make her rich but she worked in a store owned by a friend of her father's, next door to a book shop owned by a friend of her father's—in fact everyone on three blocks in every direction was a friend of her father's. A few years before, he'd singlehandedly kept a huge corporation from wiping out all the business there and replacing it with a Walmart and for that Sarah was the golden child of their little community. Every day she'd go to the small grocery store down the street and buy some fruit or a sandwich for lunch then head to the bookstore to read while she ate, as long as she was careful to keep the books clean. When she needed new shoes she went across the street for a discount that bordered on the small Indian man who owned the store simply giving them to her free. That and many other reasons were what convinced her father to allow her to move into the city. What more could a father ask for than for his daughter to be surrounded by friends who could wield baseball bats if anyone tried anything funny.

She straightened with a sigh, admiring her handiwork as she looked around the store and began to search for another task to busy herself with. The bell over the door rang but she had already spotted a rack across the aisle that needed her attention and had gone to take care of it. If anyone needed help they could ask the other girl working today, she wasn't feeling up to much socialization this afternoon. Not after… Her lips tingled as she remembered how he'd put his arms around her so easily, as if he knew he was welcome and would be in the future. The way he'd taken his time, like he knew he had all the time in the world. How he'd looked at her as he crossed the room; like she was the only thing that mattered to him— the smile on her face disappeared rapidly. How many other girls had fallen for that exact same look? Probably more than they could clothe with the entirety of the store's stock. Well, she certainly wasn't going to dinner with him tonight. She wouldn't even answer when he knocked on the door. She jammed a shirt back onto a hanger with a bit too much force and it snapped in half in her hand. Sighing, she picked up the pieces and wandered over to the counter to find another. Maybe it would just be better if she wasn't home at all when he knocked. On her break she called her friend Katie to see about crashing on her couch for the night.

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It took Jareth only half an hour to be certain that Sarah wasn't simply ignoring him. He checked his watch one last time before sighing and running a hand through his hair. Well, he couldn't expect to win the game in one day. If he could, what was the point of playing? With one last glance at the closed door he turned, hefted his guitar case over his shoulder and made his way up the stairs to his own apartment. At the top of the staircase a glint of silver caught his eye and he spun to blink in wonder at a small can sitting on his doorstep with a small note taped to it. He stepped forward and bent to pick it up, scanning the note as he did. It read:

Sorry I couldn't go out with you but I had better things to do. Plants to water, pet rocks to walk, paint to watch dry. All higher on my to-do list than dinner with you, I'm afraid. But here is something you can eat all by yourself, I'm sure. If you prefer chicken or fillet mignon, I'm afraid the store was out.

-Sarah

Jareth removed the note and laughed out loud. Oh, he'd known she was feisty but apparently she had follow through as well, because he was sure she didn't have a dog to feed which meant that she must have driven to the store just to get this. In his hands was a can of Alpo dog food, beef flavor. He grinned as he let himself in and set his guitar down, sweeping his arm across the mantle above the fireplace and, ignoring the mess of the remains of the porcelain figurine at his feet set the can in the place it used to be. When he stepped back to admire it he grinned again. "Cheeky little chit."

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Ok, so first of all, I changed the title to be an exact David Bowie reference, even though I liked the original better.

So, here's chapter three. Yay! See, I can continue things! I'm useful sometimes. :D Hope you lieks it!

AND I PROMISE there will be a chicken and glitter in the next chapter. I PROMISE! And I said that last chapter, but this time I mean it! It it very much overdue.

Next chapter (which will be much more eventful) in the next two weeks or so... I hope.


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